-and-spoon race, and I missed the train handsomely.

There was an interval of twenty minutes before the next one was due, so
I thought I would have a cigarette. I opened my case, and a piece of
paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and glanced at it. On one
side I read that "... knocked out Submarine Snooks in the ninth round
after a hotly--contested ..." while on the other side I saw that "...
condition offers the gravest anxiety to his numerous friends and ..." I
threw the paper away, for it did not interest me, and walked up to the
bookstall to select a magazine. I had to remove my left glove in order
to get at my money, and in pulling it off I noticed a shred of cotton
come away with it. This meant an inside seam gone somewhere; and they
were new gloves, too. I threw a coin to the paper-boy, and two small
round objects like boot-buttons rolled on to the platform. Shortly
afterwards the train strolled up.

At the office I was so busy all day, arranging about the shipment of a
steam-crane to Siam (I am a commission-agent), that it was not until I
was seated in the train, going home in the evening, that I vaguely
remembered that I had forgotten something. I grew more and more uneasy,
and, with the idea of distracting my thoughts from an unpleasant
channel, I picked up an evening paper from underneath the opposite seat.
At some quite recent period it had obviously contained nourishment of an
oleaginous nature, but, though soiled, it was still legible. The very
first paragraph which I read served to remind me of Joan's forgotten
orders; but it brought me, nevertheless, an unholy joy, for it ran: "The
funeral of the late Mr. Jeremiah Moggridge, founder and managing
director of the mammoth stores which bear his name, took place this
afternoon. As a mark of respect the premises were closed for business
throughout the day."

So it would have been futile to ring them up in any case. I was saved!

On reaching home the first thing Joan said to me was--

"Did you order those things from Moggridge's?"

I didn't say anything. I merely handed her the evening paper and
indicated the saving clause. Joan read it through. Then she said--

"Yes, I _thought_ you'd mess it all up in spite of your ichneumonics, or
whatever you call them; and so after lunch I went to the call-office and
ordered the things myself."

"But Moggridge's was closed--didn't you read?"

"Yes," replied Joan; "but, next time you forget, don't try to